“But why you?” Doctor Kudakwashe Xironga said, pushing aside his half-eaten dovi, the sadza beside it looking neglected.
“You don"t seem hungry, Kuda,” she said. “I pray you"re well and that events today haven"t upset you.” She was relishing the peanut butter stew and had already finished her sadza, a cornmeal cake.
They sat at a table just inside his tent, a chill wind beginning to blow, the night time temperatures relatively brisk this close to the continental edge. The central square of the Regina Zimbabwe was filled with tenting, holding a communal, dormitory-style tent with an attached mess, multiple individual and conjugal units attached to it, the whole structure a warren of canvas. Doctor Xironga"s tent had been set up in the northern end of the central square, somewhat apart fro
